Weaknesses and Chemises
by goddess-orchid
Summary: To act on one's feelings is a difficult thing. It is a risk that can either lead to heaven or heartbreak. For those reasons Blackwall has decided to give The Inquisitor room to decide when their flirts will progress to more. Unfortunately their clear attraction and his steady pace are driving her mad, leaving her with only one option... Prompted via tumblr.


"Blackwall and my flirty Rosalyn Cadash. They tease and flirt and are just so coy, but they dance around the true topic, until one night Rosie sneaks into his bedchambers and ambushes him with silk lingerie :D"

For the unstoppably wonderful officialvarrictethras

Weaknesses were few and far between for Blackwall, but as he sat in the courtyard, watching the Inquisitor, he wondered how his new weakness took hold so fiercely. Rosalyn moved like a woman possessed, dodging Ser Cullen and moving so quick that by the time Blackwall blinked she had moved behind the Templar and kicked him firm in the backside, sending him straight to the ground. She laughed, wiping her brow, as Cullen rolled over with a bright red face and a smile. Just because she wielded a bow warriors like the Templar got cocky, thinking once they closed the distance they'd have a true advantage. _Never underestimate someone like Rosalyn, or assume you know what to expect_. Blackwall shook his head, remembering the thousands of bruises he had gotten learning that lesson in his youth.

"Move quicker, next time Ser Templar. If you're going to dress like a lion, move like one."

Rosalyn was a woman without parallel, and Blackwall had known many strong women in his life. She'd rush into battle with a biting word, her arm steady, and a twinkle in her eye that begged for someone to dare her into action. He would be thrashing some enemy and turn to see that look on her face, the one that sent shivers down his spine. The world would stand still just a moment and she'd transcend them all as she pulled back on her bow string. Out of battle she remained just as beautiful and just as quick. The result was Blackwall finding himself going weak kneed in her presence and returning her flirtations with growing ease. It had been a long while since he felt so...alive with someone. Not to say that things were _bad_ before, but when she looked at him the world became so very vivid.

"Blackwall, " Rosalyn called, as she walked towards him. She wiped the sweat from her brow with her bare arm then brushed a strand of lose hair back into place. Seeing her that way always made him feel like a boy barely old enough to court a girl. His stomach would do flips and he couldn't help the smile on his lips, or the slight flush of his cheeks. At that moment Rosalyn looked like a goddess of the hunt, her bow and quiver strapped to her back, her taunt body absolutely stunning. The dwarves did not have gods or goddesses, and Andrastians had only Andraste and The Maker, but he wondered if the elves had some goddess of comparison. _If not they should certainly make one_. Some people wanted delicate flowers who never dirtied their hands, but Blackwall preferred the goddesses, the ones who worked and made people like him work all the harder in battle and out.

When did she become his weakness?

"My lady, I see you've given our friend quite the...throttling."

"Well, we trained a bit, his melee versus my range. Then he wanted to bet I could best him without my bow." She grinned, shrugging her shoulders as though it were nothing. "So I did."

"Three times," Blackwall said, somewhat embarrassed to admit that he'd been watching for so long. It was hard not to with a woman like her.

"That was nothing. It was barely a work out even." That familiar smirk came to her face, the one that made her seem like a woman on the hunt. "Ser Blackwall, if you want a true show of my skill or stamina I would be glad to show you."

She let the words linger in the air, an open invitation as much as it was a challenge. The thought of her in bed, her body bare and eager for his touch...Blackwall swallowed, pushing the thought aside, but saying. "I'd expect you'd look as extraordinary then as you do now."

He could just see the light flush come to her cheeks, and she raised a brow.

"You like your women sweaty and rolling in the dirt with church boys?" Her words sounded so ridiculous that he couldn't help the deep laugh that escaped him.

"Perhaps half of one and not the other." Blackwall said, looking off towards the men who were beginning to train on the field. "I would not say I like most women, that way...just one."

Those words were the closest they'd come to an admission. Despite how they flirted the depth of their feelings remained hidden. Rosalyn did not know how fast his heart was beating or how that just slight curve of her lips into that undeniably sexy smirk could suck a weak kneed man in deeper than he ever meant to go. While they both felt that dangerous spark that line went uncrossed, as much as his heart drove him on.

Rosalyn turned bright red, and for once became rather silent, but it was not an uncomfortable silence. Their quiet wasn't an absence, but filled with a richness that only understanding and comfort could bring. Being beside her was natural from the moment they met. He fell into step by her side, feeling as though that was where he belonged, and when they were ambushed the energy they shared was only comparable to Wardens he had known for years. Everything between them came easy, perhaps if he was younger it would not. He would have been that serious minded youth, far too confident with his abilities and yet far too reserved to act without hesitation. The years had tempered him with wisdom and experience. It was rather comforting because when they did come together he'd truly give her the best of him and not the follies of a young man still uncertain of himself, of his role.

She sat down beside him, their bodies barely inches apart. He didn't want to push anything too soon, but her being so close made it hard to resist. His thoughts were filled with Rosalyn Cadash, Rosie, _his_ Inquisitor. Still, he knew the responsibilities of duty as much as the stresses. He had seen villagers prostrate themselves before her, asking for her help, and the lines of important families begging for her time. He didn't want to be among them, another person wanting something she wasn't quite ready for. He'd seen the yearning in her eyes, and the soft smiles reserved only for him. He'd heard her honey words, and knew that when she was ready she'd come to him.

"Ser Blackwall!" When he looked up he saw Josephine leaning out the window of her office, a stack of parchment in her hand. "Could you please come help me with some of these letters to your fellow Wardens?"

"Yes, I'll be right up, lass." He stood, immediately missing the feeling of having Rosalyn so close, of feeling the heat from her body.

"Back to the grind it seems." She let out a small sigh, perhaps the most delicate sound he'd ever heard. It was impossible not to wonder how her whimpers would sound, or if she'd sigh in the same way after reaching ecstasy. Those thoughts filled his mind, and he couldn't help but clear his throat as he tried to ignore them.

Before he turned to leave he took her hand in his, and leaned down, placing a kiss upon it. Despite the thoughts in his head, he was a gentleman to the core and he'd give no less than she deserved.

"My lady."

"B-Blackwall."

How wonderful his name sounded upon her lips. She said it with such affection, borderline tenderness even. As he walked towards the entrance to the keep he wondered if he should count that as another weakness.

"If a man does not make a move on you, you make a move on the man." Rosalyn Cadash had heard that saying a thousand times from her friend Gwendal "the untamable", and as she stalked the halls of Skyhold with only a candle to guide her way she felt it was perhaps the truest thing she'd ever heard. The man hadn't jumped her yet. Not that sex was the only thing she wanted from him, but he _hadn't_ and that was more than a little frustrating.

Truth be told it wasn't just him. She'd had thousands of chances to tell him how she felt, but whenever she thought to the most she could muster were flirts. Good flirts. Classics. Things Varric could probably put in an advice book for every young woman and man in Thedas. But it was a difficult thing to just come out and say what she felt out of the blue.

This was easier.

This was in her nature.

This was her in an expensive purple and black chemise, barefoot running to Blackwall's room in the dark. When she found her prize she knocked once then twice, praying he wasn't asleep as the cold air bit against her skin. She did not want one of her subordinates, particularly Varric or Sera, finding out that she'd desperately snuck off to seduce the man she loved because she couldn't get him into bed. After few minutes there was no response. She gentle wiggled the handle only to find it unlocked, so she pushed it open to peak in only to find it empty.

"He must be with the others drinking." Rosalyn slipped in, shutting the door behind her. Her plans had changed, nay improved from what they were and the smile on her face stretched from ear to ear. She'd be waiting upon his bed, sprawled out, purring for him...he'd finally act on what they both wanted. She drew in a breath, trying to stop her lustful thoughts as she walked to his bed. The thought of him ravishing her, his lips upon her own made her pulse race and her mind blur. She let herself fall onto it, and was greeted by the distinct scent of Blackwall. It was a scent like fresh earth after the rain, like freshly polished steel, and slightly spiced light cinnamon wafting from the warm spiced cider he was fond of. He'd take it over ale on some nights, and at first she found it strange until he made her his recipe. "An old family recipe," he said, putting a finger to his lips on that cold long night. With a sip Rosalyn was hooked, and savored every sip as though it'd be her last. That night they stayed awake, flirting and talking about their pasts by the light of the fire. Suddenly she had caught a chill, and ever the gentleman, he had pulled her close, attempting to warm her up. That he most certainly did. She had replayed that night so many times in her head, concocting a thousand different ways for that night to have played out differently, preferably with her naked and writhing on top of him. As she lay enraptured in his scent and the sweet memories of his handsome face, she felt the familiar stirrings of arousal.

It was taking far too long for him to return, and the ache for his touch was driving her mad. When was the last time she felt so in need of someone? When they were apart it wasn't just an absence but an ache on a level that transcended the sexual, maybe even the romantic. Blackwall was an impressive man on all levels, but he sated something in her that she didn't know existed before. Blackwall with his dark penetrating eyes, and the slight curve of his lips when he smiled as though he were just barely holding something back. With a laugh he took her breath away, and with one look she felt more love than she ever had before.

The sound of footsteps tore her from her thoughts, and she jumped. As the door knob turned, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, spreading them just enough so she'd seem inviting and not just desperate. She leaned back on her hands, and did her best to put on an alluring smile. It wouldn't be hard to get him to give in. The chemise was so wonderfully sheer that the man would have to be crazy or only interested in men to ignore it, and either of those things seemed very unlikely.

When Blackwall entered he froze wide eyed at the sight before him. His eyes ran over her from bottom to top and back, as though he couldn't believe that she was there in the flesh. Slowly he shut the door, and as he did Rosalyn felt her heart threaten to escape her chest.

"Inquis-" A sharp look from Rosalyn stopped the word in his mouth. "Rosalyn, I supposed...I could ask what you are doing here, but that'd be rather pointless." He sounded so unbelievably shocked, but more than that he sounded pleased. The look in his eyes spoke of the same ache that must have been in her own eyes.

"And a waste of time." She ran a hand down over the curve of her breasts, over her belly, and down to between her legs. "I know how I feel about you, and I am certain that you...you feel the same. I'm tired of waiting for some right time and I'm not here for just a tryst."

Blackwall simply moved to stand before her, his eyes never leaving her and his smile never fading.

"Good, because I wouldn't accept just one or just your body, as-" A breathy exhale escaped him, as he looked her over, he reached down and the feeling of his hands against her cheek sent shivers down her spine. "as beautiful as it is. Rosalyn, I-"

She pulled his lips to hers, silencing him with a kiss filled with the passion of every night she'd lain awake thinking about him. She could taste the mead on his tongue, and feel the want in his caresses. When their lips parted it was only long enough for him to toss his shirt to the side and kick off his boots. This time when they kissed it felt as though he wanted to devour her. Every stolen glance, ever kind word, every victory shared between them had built that them there. Nothing existed beyond that room, and for the first time since the start of the whole mess Rosalyn Cadash could truly breathe even as Blackwall took her breath away. He kissed from her lips to her neck, sucking the tender flesh as his hands cupped her full breasts. The reality defied her imagination and she found herself whimpering as he worked his way down her collar bone. He took the straps of her chemise between his fingers, lowering them down. When her breasts her exposed, he pulled back, looking upon her with such adoration that she had to look away to try and control her blushing.

"Every part of you makes me weak inside and out, but in that same way...you give me strength, Rosalyn. It may sound trite, but truer words I've never spoken." The words were quiet, as though he didn't want the world to hear the things meant only for her ears. This was what she'd pined for after all those months, and it seemed so unreal. He leaned in and sucked her breast ravenously, making her moan as his hands began to caress the supple flesh her inner thighs. She cried out his name, as his fingers trailed closer and closer to her sex. His fingertips simply teased, refusing to grant her the relief of his touch. She rocked her hips, but he continued simply feeling the curls hidden by her chemise and barely touching the soft flesh she wanted him to explore.

When his fingers finally grazed her womanhood she let out a groan, urging him on for more contact. But his touches remained light even as he began to stroke her, trailing a finger from bottom to the top of her bud and down. Each time she shuddered, her fingers digging into the sheets of his bed, as she began to descend into sweet madness. The torture went on until her whole body ached with desire, but all she could do was pout and whimper. He was enjoying this far too much, but she was resigned to letting him have control, to watching him lose himself in her. Still her knees were shaking, and it was so damned hard to think straight. A throaty chuckle escaped him, as he lifted her thighs, raising them upon his shoulders. At the sight of her sex, he licked his lips, swallowing.

"Blackwall, please...you're driving me mad."

"Don't worry, lass, I intend to give you release..." Blackwall leaned in, and the sensation of his tongue replacing his fingers, licking from bottom to top, made her gasp. _Yes. Yes. More of that!_ A bolt of pleasure wracked her body as one of his fingers worked its way into her depths. His dark eyes stared up at her, filled with lust for her body and an all consuming need to show her what she brought out in him."By the time the night is done. You'll understand the benefits of Grey Warden stamina."


End file.
